


Polish the Stars Before You Go

by DreamingAmethystDragons



Series: And the Sky Smiled [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/F, Pre-Relationship, Shenanigans, mercy's trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 10:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10304837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingAmethystDragons/pseuds/DreamingAmethystDragons
Summary: All Angela wanted was to try to make herself a hot drink.  Apparently she turns into a complete and utter moron this early in morning.





	

She’s not sure where the concept of medics being yielding came from - if anything, when it’s three in the morning she’s only just getting out of the medbay, fueled with coffee, adrenaline, and sheer boneheaded spite, Angela is by all means _not_ the submissive party.

She knocks into the watchpoint kitchen, pleased for once that it is _quiet_ ; she knows night terrors as well as anyone else and wouldn’t, can’t, fault any of her teammates for being up this late, but conversely it’s nice to finally have a moment to herself.  The light over the stove is dim and warm, and the couch in the commons is looking more and more inviting.  Angela breathes in, two-count, then pushes open the pantry to see what for drinks they have that isn’t bitter, cloying coffee.  (She doesn’t particularly _like_ her coffee black, but when you’ve got to get going, you do what you have to.)

Angela sorts through boxes, proud when her hands shake only slightly.  Tea, green tea, black tea, _more_ black tea (fucking _hell_ , Lena), hot chocolate, several loose-leaf bags, things in tall bottles that she should probably stay away from, whiskey, coffee.  She eyes the whiskey in all seriousness but grabs the hot chocolate instead; as long as it’s warm, all the better.  It goes in turns: shuffle to the refrigerator, grab the milk, push it closed with your foot, turn and almost decapitate Fareeha Amari via milk jug because Angela hadn’t even heard her enter the room and she was standing _right behind her_.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Fareeha’s saying, hands up and leaning back just as Angela’s murmuring a curse under her breath, leaning back against the counter to wait for her heart to return to a rhythm if only slightly more akin to a resting rate.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Okay, intentions of the act aside, Angela forgives her slightly for at least apologizing.  It’s more than some people would do, not mentioning any names.  However, “How did you think that _wouldn’t_ surprise me?  No, it’s okay,” she waves her hand, shooing Fareeha back a few steps, “I forgive you, just - give me some space, okay, thanks.”  That looks suspiciously like a smile twitching on Fareeha’s lips, and Angela squints at her.  “Late night snack run?”

“I slept on the way back here from my last mission, so I couldn’t possibly sleep now.”  Fareeha is _ignoring_ her unspoken request personal space, and Angela is both bemused, annoyed, and flustered as Fareeha gets right back next to her and bumps her aside with a hip.  Angela tries to swat her hands away from the milk, but Fareeha reaches over her easily to flick the stove on.  Stupid soldier with her five or so inches above her, and her stupid smile and stupidly broad shoulders, and, fuck.

Apparently Angela turns into a complete and utter moron when she’s tired, but at the same time this all could be a hallucination because Fareeha most definitely appears to be making her hot chocolate at three twenty-eight in the morning, dressed in pajama bottoms and a black tanktop.  Angela appreciates it, yes, and Fareeha’s hardly bad on the eyes, but see, it’s the principle that just because she’s tired doesn’t mean she’s incapable - she’s the best damn medic they’ve got, so if she has the fine motor and mental skills needed to control nanobots on the battlefield she can make herself a hot drink on little sleep.  So she leans right back, trying to shove Fareeha away and smacking her hands and ultimately ending up draped over her side with Fareeha’s arm across her back and a somewhat helplessly bewildered smile - yes, that is _definitely_ a smile now - as she leans back.  Angela reaches for the stove then gives it up in the next heartbeat, sighing.  Ah, Fareeha is warm.

And now she’s glad for her customary turtleneck that she wears when out of uniform, because it provides a great way to hide her face.  What is she, three?

Next to Fareeha’s chest as she is, she can feel the rumble of laughter that breaks free.  She’s probably pouting.  Goddamn it.  The arm that was draped over her shoulders shifts, and it takes her a couple of seconds to realize that she’s being treated to a one-armed hug.

“Honestly, doctor, I don’t mind.” Fareeha’s crooked smile - at least what she can see of it - is warm and fond in the glow of the stove light.  A warm hand rubs her shoulder blades, and then, like an afterthought, “Is it bad to tell a doctor how to take care of herself?  Because I think that you really should be sleeping right now.”

_You and me both._

“Ah, well, duty calls.  And please, if we’re...

_Standing out here hugging in the kitchen?_

“- This is, that is… It’s okay to call me Angela.  Please.”  She’s hardly one to stand on ceremony anyway, and certainly not.. Now.

Fareeha only hums thoughtfully.  Angela spares a moment to thank any higher deities that she might not believe in but may or may not be there for the muscles she can feel along Fareeha’s back, which are _very_ nice and she’s _not_ going to think about touching.  She’s the doctor for practically everyone here, she’s _not_ going to make this weird even if they’re practically cuddling, and she’s definitely thinking about it.

“Are you petting me?”

“No.” She may have been.

“As you say, Angela.”  That’s definitely affection, there.

Scrutiny notwithstanding, it’s nice to hear her first name, and she feels her muscles beginning to relax.  She’s so dead on her feet by the time that Fareeha finishes up and manuevers them both back to the couch that she’s more inclined to curl right back up, although she can’t refuse the mug proffered to her when Fareeha went out of her way to make it - and she certainly can’t just cradle it to enjoy the heat alone when Fareeha gives her those eyes.  Not puppy dog eyes, but very, very close.  It’s delicious, though, and she finds herself blinking stupidly at the bottom of an empty mug in no time flat.  

“Um, do you want me to take you back to your room?”  Fareeha.  Angela’s so tired for a moment she forgot, although obviously her body didn’t because she’s lying right up close next to her.  She blinks up at the other, wondering vaguely if she left her brain in the medbay until she’s fascinated by the glimmer of light dancing in Fareeha’s eyes when the other tilts her head.

Which.  Right.  “I... it might be better if I stay here for a bit.”  She leans forward to set her cup on the coffee table and feels Fareeha guiding her as she leans back.  When a large warm hand cradles her shoulder Angela gives up the ghost of her reservations and a few other things and unabashedly leans back into Fareeha, who, as it turns out, is great for being a human pillow.  “If that’s okay.”

Fareeha sighs, but it’s a comfortable noise, and she stretches out those long legs and shifts.  “That is quite alright, doc- I mean, Angela.  Do you want me to wake you later?”

“Mmm, yeah.”  Sleep is irresistable, but Angela’s not a complete heathen and pushes herself up long enough to press her lips to Fareeha’s cheek.  “Thank you.”

“I - Of course.  Sleep well?”

And Angela thinks she most certainly will.

**Author's Note:**

> Also cross-posted to my tumblr account.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
